


Thankful Moment

by SickSadWorldLady



Series: Someone Goofed [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickSadWorldLady/pseuds/SickSadWorldLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sure it was all fake, but fake sure as hell beats non-existent when you think about it.”</p><p>Part two of the two part holiday series 'Someone Goofed.' Story takes place in Season 3 between Lord of the Pi's and Spit and Eggs based on a loose timeline I could devise. This installment is told from Logan's POV of Thanksgiving at the Mars. Part two will be from Logan's POV of the same events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thankful Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving Marshmellows in the U.S.!

_“Duncan, tell Veronica she looks hot,” Lilly pouted._

_“Lilly. Stop.” The meeker of the blond pair insisted quietly._

_Logan and Duncan were sitting in the pool house deeply engrossed in video games and the beer they’d snuck out of his mom’s yearly holiday party, their girlfriends whispering and giggling behind them, nipping at the swiped vodka._

_“Dude, your girlfriend looks hot.” Logan lifted his eyebrows in a patented smirk as he remained locked on the screen._

_“Shut up man.” Next to him Duncan paused the game and turned to face Lilly and Veronica. “But he’s right, you look very beautiful.”_

_Gross._

_Sensing the game was over, Logan threw the controller on the couch and walked over to the girls, wrapping his arms tightly around Lilly and kissing her forehead gently._

_“Not as hot as you of course.” She leaned up, smelling like Chanel No. 5, another stolen item of her mom’s he was sure, and circled her arms around his neck, sticking her tongue down his throat without a second thought. Instinctively he pushed his tongue against hers, fighting a battle for oxygen._

_It’s what they did. It didn’t matter who was there, who was around them. They were 13 and 14 year olds. And she was hot, hot and willing. So what if they had stupid fights too often. She was hot and wanted to do stuff with him. The perfect girlfriend in his thirteen year-old mind. Also that sequin crop top. Thank God for all the mistletoe his mom had made the help hang everywhere._

_“Logan, man, that’s my sister,” Duncan whined next to him._

_“So? Hot appreciates hot.” He loved messing with Duncan. Or really anyone, but Duncan was so easy, so innocent and naive._

_“Duncan. Try paying more attention to your own girlfriend,” Lilly said. “Then you won’t see us.” She winked at him._

_He caught Veronica blushing profusely to Duncan’s right. She was definitely a looker, tiny and petite, with silky blonde hair and clear blue eyes. But she was so shy and virginal, lacking Lilly’s zest and fire._

_“We should probably get inside anyways before my mom flips.”_

_“Ok,” Lilly agreed, eyes dancing with a playful smile. “We’ll pick this up later.” With that she grabbed his hand and marched him out of the pool house, giving him a nice, looooong look at her behind._

 

\--

 

“Hey man, you coming?”

 

“Yeah, one sec.”

 

Logan grabbed his phone from the coffee table and quickly shot off a text.

 

_What time should I be at the last supper?_

 

Thirty seconds later his phone buzzed.

_Dad says dinner’s at 4_

_K hanging out with Dick for the night. See you tomorrow_

_Aww what no invite? Shucks_

_Love you bobcat. Have fun with your dad_

 

He stared at his phone for a minute, stupidly expecting a response that wouldn’t come, before tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans and looking up to see Dick glaring at him impatiently.

 

“Dude. Girls.”

 

“Dude. Girlfriend.”

 

“Ronnie won’t mind,” a goofy grinned slapped across his face. “I’m sure she’d be down for a threesome.”

 

Logan sighed and shook his head. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, a notorious drinking night as local kids who left the nest for college flew back for the holidays. He’d agreed to spend the night with Dick, testing out Dick’s new fake. By now, Logan had lost count of how many fake IDs Dick had, swapping a new one out every time it failed to get him the booze and boobs he wanted. Between he and Veronica they easily cornered the Neptune identity market.

 

“I’m serious Dick. No girls.”

 

“You used to be fun man. Somewhere there’s a dictionary with your picture next to the word pussy whipped.”

 

“Come to think of it, Webster asked me for my picture when they announced they were adding it to this year’s edition. I sent them a shot of you trailing Madison like a puppy. Hope that’s ok.”

 

Dick was often slack-jawed, so it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but he didn’t push further, grabbing his leather jacket and heading for the door. He just wanted this night to end.

 

\--

 

Snaking his way through crowd, Logan found himself at the bar, a pissy look on his face and a twenty tucked between his middle and index fingers. He didn’t want to be with Dick. He certainly didn’t want to be at a shitty local bar wingmaning Dick. And he absolutely didn’t want to be drowning his sorrows in alcohol at the shitty local bar wingmaning Dick.

 

All he wanted was to be at the Grand, watching an old movie, Veronica falling asleep in his lap despite her weakening protestations that she was wide awake. After she’d fall asleep he’d stroke her hair gently, laying a light kiss on her forehead before carrying her to his bed as she lightly stirred in his arms. Fuck he wanted that. He wanted that so fucking badly. Instead he was here, and she was at her dad’s, and it felt like a million miles even though if he’d wanted to he could hop in a cab and be there in 10 minutes.    

 

A pretty, blond bartender made his way over to him, jutting her chest out and copping a hilariously obvious come hither look. Christ. He actually laughed out loud.

 

“Whiskey. Double. Rocks.” No full sentences. Full sentences might invite further conversation, the other last thing he wanted right now.

 

“Rough night sailor?” Sailor? Could this woman be more of a cliche? Whatever. He downed the drink, raised an eyebrow in a smirk, and slapped the twenty in front of her.

 

“Keep the change.” It was nearly Thanksgiving after all, and she certainly was putting in the effort.

 

He checked his phone. Nothing. Shocking.

 

That night--the night he’d found her drugged, barely conscious next to her car, a tiny bald spot hiding under her beautiful blond hair--something in him snapped. It wasn’t unusual for him, he was prone to sudden bursts of emotion, usually rage, but sometimes sadness, even occasionally exuberance. That was mostly just with her though. A violent jerk of being that threw him spiraling in a completely opposite plane. But since that night, he hadn’t been able to sleep. Images of Veronica, _his_ Veronica, drifted in and out of consciousness. Bald. Naked. Hurt.

 

So he didn’t sleep. Not for long anyways. He couldn’t stomach it. The first night after he stayed with her he’d gotten up, run to the bathroom, and hurled.

 

He wanted to be near her, constantly, watching out for her, protecting her, but she wouldn’t let him and he hated her for it. He loved her yet he hated her. Hated how fucking stubborn she was, how callous she could be in not recognizing that her actions affected him. But mostly he loved her, and that might be what he hated her for the most.

 

It was wrong, he knew that deep down, but he meant it when he said it, he didn’t fucking care. Veronica was his entire life and he wasn’t just going to let something happen to her because she was a stubborn ass.

 

So he picked fights and she picked fights and they just kept fighting. Another picture perfect holiday season for the album.

 

Four more drinks and he needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. He told Dick to find his own way home and escaped the bar as fast as he could. Another drink, another girl, another ten minutes without hearing from her and he knew he would do something he’d regret, but he was better than that, or at least she made him try to be better than that.

 

\--

 

He woke up hungover and exhausted, eyes an alarming shade of red. Shit. He needed to see her, but not like this. She’d know. Know that he drank himself to the cusp of stupid, and round oh-who-the-fuck-could-count-anymore would commence.

 

He splashed cold water on his face, ordered up a room service coffee and eggs, and texted her.

 

_Can I come over early?_

 

A minute or so later an envelope appeared on screen.

 

_If you want. My dad’s just cooking dinner. Nothing exciting_

 

Sound a little more happy to see your boyfriend, please.

 

He shot back. _Do you want me to even come at all?_

 

_Of course! I just don’t want you to be bored_

 

He knew she was full of it but he didn’t care. He wasn’t kidding; he needed to see her, to be near her, to talk to her. She was slipping away and he couldn’t let that happen, not yet, not without a little more fight.

 

_Thank you for your concern but I’ll be fine. I’ll be there around noon_

 

\--

 

He couldn’t go inside, there was no privacy, and if they drove back to his place they’d just end up like they always did, in bed. That part worked. That part was fucking fantastic actually, but for once that was the last thing he wanted. So when she met him outside, exasperated and a little on edge, he quickly kissed her and just drove. On and on.

 

She was right, of course she didn’t need to tell him that. Nothing was open. It was Thanksgiving. They were due to eat a peaceful, festive meal with her dad in less than four hours.

 

Finally, he pulled into an empty parking lot. He swooped around the lot, letting the car come to a stop wherever. It’s not like there were police around.

 

He couldn’t face her so he just started straight ahead instead.

 

“The holidays suck.”  

 

“Thanks for the update Ebenezer,” she bit back, half playfully, half hostile. “We drove for half an hour so you could state the obvious?”

 

He ignored her. Her tongue, her wit, he loved them sometimes, the challenge of them, but sometimes he just wanted her to stop and let him talk. So that’s what he did.

 

“You know I always hated my mom’s parties. They were so obviously a display of Echolls’ family bullshit. Mom trying to act like we were old money, which I mean who was she kidding, and Aaron pretending he wasn’t sleeping with half the double x-chromosomed attendees.

 

“Now I find myself missing them,” he stopped. He still couldn’t face her, instead focusing on a shopping cart that had found its way loose, rubbing his temple with his thumb. Pressing away the pain in his head formed by a lethal combination of alcohol, lack of sleep, and heartache.  

 

“Sure it was all fake, but fake sure as hell beats non-existent when you think about it.”

 

He felt her lay a hand on his shoulder and he instantly melted, sinking back further into his seat, so close to becoming a puddle. Damnit, he fucking loved her, but also, he hated how he couldn’t control himself around her. It had never been like this. Even with Lilly. Sure, he was madly in love with Lilly, but he was equally in love with the idea of Lilly, the pursuit of her. She was this goddess, this older, gorgeous, vivacious goddess who wanted him and taught him how to fuck. Veronica was different. She was beautiful, but not in the same way, and vivacious, but also in a different way. And sure, they liked to play games, test each other, but that was different too. Their games were meant to feel the other one out, see how close they could get until boom, one or both self-destructed. Games with Veronica weren’t sexual, they were terrifying.

 

“I used to love the holidays,” she said, and he didn’t know why but it calmed him a little. Just this tiny revelation, her soft words, the lack of pretense. There’d been so much hiding and fighting that just hearing her talk to him made him feel better.

 

“The Grinch used to love Christmas too.” The tension in him eased slightly and he felt comfortable teasing her again, safe that he wouldn’t hit a landmine, not this time.

 

“It’s the most I can remember my mom being happy. Looking back it was pretty clearly the added alcohol, but her eyes lit up a little more around the holidays.” Holy shit she was sharing.

 

“Yeah, I think my mom really did like planning those parties, even if the logic behind them was twisted.”

 

“And Lilly. I mean she was always full of life, but she really loved the holidays a little extra.”

 

“For the sake of our relationship, I will remain silent on Lilly’s idea of holiday celebrations.” He smirked big and wide, teasing her again, being themselves again.

 

“Like I don’t already know.”

 

“You’re making me blush Veronica.”

 

“Trust me on this, no one blushed more than I did when I got the first hand accounts.”

 

“Thankfully Duncan didn’t share Lilly’s propensity for gossip. I don’t think I could handle those images,” he said, brushing her hair to the side, making contact to ensure she was still there. “It was bad enough sleeping in the other room.”

 

“Logan, I…”

 

“Don’t worry about it Mars. Bygones.” He waved his hand off into the air letting her know it was ok, that he didn’t mean it to be cruel, he was just showing her the power she had over him in the only way he could.

 

She really was beautiful, with her swimming pool eyes and sharp cheekbones, he thought as she took him in, gauged where this was going.

 

“So did you bring me out here just to rehash holidays past? Is our next stop Christmas present, and then Christmas future?”

 

“You’re confusing my milky white complexion for that of a ghost again. I should be offended, but I’ll choose to thank my moisturizer instead.” Playing along he touched his cheek with his forefingers. “Perfection baby.”

 

“So it was to discuss our former sex lives? Because I think we can safely head back now. I know all your dirty little secrets with Lilly.” A harshness worked its way through her words, and boom, he grew quiet.

 

“Veronica.” He was grasping for the right tone, settling for soft but firm. “I just wanted to be with you, away from everyone and all the shit.”

 

“I could have met you at your place?”  

 

“Then we really wouldn’t have talked.” He sighed, but he also smirked, just a little, he couldn’t help it, the picture of her in his bed, on top of him. Fucking him. He was a nineteen year-old guy. Love of his life or not, sex was still a pretty big priority.

 

“You know we could skip the whole talking thing here? I doubt anyone would notice.” Was she scared? He looked at her, his badass, won’t-take-shit-from-anyone girlfriend, and she looked almost scared. Veronica Mars was propositioning sex in an attempt to avoid communication. Boy had he been wrong about her for so many years.

 

“Oh I know. Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

 

He paused, trying to think of the right thing to say, to calm her, but also to really talk to her, without the shouting and snide comments they both always regretted.

 

“I want to help you.” He heard his voice shake. “I need to actually. I can’t sleep. I keep having nightmares where you, you’re... I don’t get to you anyways...” The air felt thick and stuffy and he had the urge to open the door and vomit right there. Thankfully, he held it together despite himself.

 

“You can’t always save me though Logan.” She was staring straight at him and her voice was different, it wasn’t angry, wasn’t defeated, it was raw and honest. “It’s just not realistic, and we’ve talked about this, I’m not going to stop being me.”

 

“I know. I know.” Just say it asshole. “But I can’t let go, not yet. I needed to be with you, alone. To be us.”

 

“And?” Her voice was a little shaky, nervous, and he knew that she wasn’t ready to let go yet either.

 

“And I still can’t.” A tired smile grew on him. “I can’t quit you Veronica Mars.”

 

“Good.” He heard her exhale; he was right, she had been scared, and it made him a little happy. It was fucked up, of course, but if she was scared then he still meant something to her. “I’m not ready to quit you either Jack.”

 

Really, he wanted to cry and laugh and smile and release all of the conflicting emotions wrestling inside him at once. He’d been ready to end things right then if need be but she came through, reminding him why he couldn’t just yet. Thank God. Because actually he wasn’t ready to break up right there. In his car. On Thanksgiving. Her face framed with the luminescence of a Renaissance painting. Blood rushing south. No. He wasn’t ready and thankfully he didn’t need to be yet.

 

“So want to ditch the talking thing?”

 

“Aren’t we supposed to be giving thanks right now?” A mischievous smile played on her lips. Thank fucking God. How was that for thanks. He knew it wouldn’t last, this momentary truce between them, but he didn’t care. He’d take what he could get.

 

“Oh trust me, I’ll be giving plenty of thanks if you hop into the back with me. Lots and lots of amens too.”

 

\--

 

He was sitting at her dad’s table staring at the Thanksgiving meal in front of him, his first as an orphan. Sure last year Aaron was locked in a cell he wouldn’t get near to save his life, but this year he truly was an orphan. No mom. No dad. Charlie didn’t want to speak to him and Trina was off “shooting a movie” which was really just code for fucking a lowly barista who moonlighted as a struggling script writer. So he had no family, and maybe that’s why he couldn’t lose her yet either. Veronica and Dick. That was all he had, and Dick was more the family dog than anything else.

 

He’d been genuinely touched her dad invited him over for the holiday, even if he alternated between being scared shitless of Mr. Mars and wanting to punch him. How could he not see how stupid his daughter was? How absolutely fucking insane was it that he kept letting her put herself in danger? Didn’t he see how close she was to being the next victim, to being hurt, to being raped. Of course he didn’t because obviously Veronica hadn’t told him the whole truth. She wasn’t an idiot, and because of that he came out looking like the bad guy. But whatever, he didn’t care. It wasn’t going to stop him from trying to protect her.

 

“So do we want to go around and give thanks?” He could feel her dad looking at the two of them.

 

She started things off, a typically Veronica answer, loaded without actually saying anything.

“Well I’m thankful for this lovely meal with two of my favorite men and a notable absence of bloodshed.”

 

“Aww shucks sweetie,” Mr. Mars replied. “I’m thankful to have such a loving, devoted daughter who would know how to dispose of the blood if need be.”

 

They were so comfortable with each other, so familial. He wondered what that was like. It wasn’t that the Mars didn’t have problems. Her piece of shit alcoholic mom up and left after not so discreetly banging Jack Kane, but she had one strong, good, kind parent. One who wouldn’t leave her no matter how hard things got. He’d had zero. As much as he loved and missed his own mom he could never forgive her for all those years she sat in the other room as his dad, her fucking husband, beat him senseless. Blood and bruises they covered with long sleeves in Southern California. In June. And then when he needed her the most, when the world continued crashing around him with seemingly no floor, she went and left for good, throwing herself off a bridge. Very movie star like; very Lynn Echolls. So no, he didn’t know what it was like to have even one parent you could count on, one that you would risk everything for like she had.  

 

He figured he should probably say something, complete the circle. Instead he played with his lip. Biting down softly at first, then pressing down harder, nearly drawing blood as he pushed his bottom lip back and forth, letting his teeth roll over the swelling flesh. Daddy dearest had really done a number on him, self-mutilation was another favorite nervous tick.

 

Fuck it. “I’m thankful you invited me.”

 

Both of them turned to look at him, mildly startled, as he maintained unbroken eye contact with his dinner plate.

 

“You’re always welcome here Logan,” Mr. Mars said to him.

 

Fuck it. Fuck it. Fuck it. He was only going to get one opportunity so he might as well just go for it.

 

“I know I’m not your favorite person in the world.” Finally he looked at Mr. Mars. He wanted him to know that he wasn’t just the pompous asshole he knew. I mean he was, but he was more than that too. He wanted her dad to know that he really did care about his daughter, that he loved her for fuck’s sake. That’s why he was here to begin with. He’d never done the family thing. When he ate with the Kanes he was there as Duncan’s friend, not Lilly’s boyfriend. No, he was sitting at this Thanksgiving dinner because Veronica was different and he’d do anything for her. Well almost. He wouldn’t let her get herself killed just because she asked, but really he didn’t think that was a ridiculous request to refuse.

 

“And I get it, no I do.” Because he did. He sure as hell wouldn’t want his daughter with the boy Mr. Mars saw in front of him.

 

“But all I want is to protect your daughter, even if she won’t let me. I can’t speak for Veronica, because no one can, she’d kill them. So I don’t know if she feels the same, but I love her. And I just thought you should know that. That no matter what happens I will always love her and want her safe and happy, even if I don’t always have the best way of showing it.”

 

He said more than he’d expected to, but he felt a sense of relief afterward. The way things were going he wasn’t sure he and Veronica would make it to the new year, but he wanted them both to know it wouldn’t be because he didn’t care. Other way actually. It was because he cared too much.

 

Mr. Mars was looking at him with fatherly resolve, an unfamiliar look to him. “I know son. I appreciate it. I just want her safe and happy too.

 

And after a moment. “Should we dig in?”

 

He felt Veronica’s hand skim across his knee, lingering in a light squeeze. Her touch burned a little, even though her hand was ice cold, searing his raw exterior. Only love could do that, he thought. Love, and maybe hate.

 

\--

 

Not wanting to go back to the Grand yet, to leave her and their rare good day, he’d offered to help wash the dishes. Plus, it’d probably score a couple more points and he was in no position to turn down extra credit.

 

“I’m glad you came today,” she said. She was standing next to him, drying the dishes he washed, brushing up against him every so often.

 

“I meant what I said.” Looking down he saw for the first time how vulnerable she looked, almost shy and timid with him, so very un-Veronica-like. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but no matter what you have to know I meant what I said.”

 

“I know. I know you do Logan. I love you too.”

 

“Do you though?” He wanted to believe her so badly. There was no question she cared about him, but he struggled with whether she loved him. It stung, the uncertainty, and so he looked at her with an eyebrow raised, skeptical of the declaration.

 

“Yes, I do. I can’t promise you that will solve everything, but I do love you. I just…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I just don’t know if that’s enough. Loving you, you loving me.”

 

“I don’t know either.” And truly, he didn’t. Actually, he was pretty sure it wasn’t enough. They were two screwed up souls who didn’t know anything but being screwed up and all the love in the world couldn’t change that until they learned how to not be. He loved her though, and she loved him, and until it wasn’t, it would be enough.

 

“But we’re too far into this for me to stop caring about you now Butch. Looks like we’re friends.”

 

Looking behind him he made sure they were out of her dad’s sight. There was telling someone you loved their daughter and there was blatantly getting physical with her in plain sight. Logan, at least not this version of himself, wasn’t the second guy. The coast clear, he placed his hand on the small of her back and bent down to kiss her forehead. As he pulled away she met his eyes, and leaned in to kiss him. Momentarily forgetting the whole don’t get handsy in front of her dad thing, he nabbed her lip with his teeth and brought his lips to hers hungrily, but delicately.

 

“I’ll never stop being your friend Veronica,” he whispered to her pulling away. “I will never stop loving you or trying to protect you. No matter how much you hate me for it. But I sure would miss that.”

 

“Maybe later I’ll show you more things you’d miss.” Oh she definitely would.

 

\--

 

As they were finishing up the dishes, Mr. Mars asked him if he wanted to stay for awhile, watch _White Christmas_ , join in yet another Mars family holiday tradition, and he genuinely did. Although he was beat, and wanted mostly to take Veronica up on her comment from earlier in the kitchen, he enjoyed the fact that her dad wasn’t openly hostile toward him.  

 

In fact, he thought he might like it if this day never ended. If they stayed in their little Thanksgiving cocoon. Because he knew, and let’s face it, she knew, that they wouldn’t. That they’d spend a few days wrapped in a holiday bubble, away from school, away from the Hearst rapist and the cases and the hostile friends and the temptations, but that come Monday they’d be back to where they were this morning. Back to fighting, back to trying to hold on. Eventually, they wouldn’t be able to, he wouldn’t have a whole day with just her to remind him why he kept fighting, and they’d break up. And that day would fucking suck. So he wanted to stay and watch a cheesy Christmas movie and be next to her because it wouldn’t last and he was already starting to miss it.

 

Sitting on the couch he let his eyes close and his body relax, enjoying just the sensation of being with her and happy.

 

Suddenly he felt her nuzzle into him and he removed his arm from behind her to draw her into him closer, as close as he could.

 

“Thank you,” she said looking up at him wide-eyed.

 

“For what Bobcat?” He felt peaceful, playful, and besides her dad was fast asleep in the chair. He could risk a pet name or two.

 

“Tonight. This was the best holiday I can remember, and it didn’t even include a naughty rendition of _A Christmas Carol_.”

 

“The night is young Tiny Tim.”

 

“I’m serious.” He caught her eyes rolling at him.

 

“Why Veronica Mars,” he said jokingly. “I think you’re going soft.”

 

“Not yet, buddy, but some day.”

 

He felt her head drop into his lap, her body slowly slackening, her breathing steady. Brushing her hair lightly, he let loose a smile just for himself. Maybe she was right. Maybe some day she’d soften, learn to let him in to where he desperately wanted to be. Maybe some day he’d stop being an ass, learn to accept that she was who she was and she didn’t need his goddamn help. Maybe. Maybe not. Always though, he would love her. Ten, twenty years from now he would love her. Whether they were together or not, whether they could make it work as a couple, he would never stop loving her. That much was crystal clear. Veronica Mars was the love of his fucking life and that wouldn’t change no matter what came next.

 

“Happy Thanksgiving Veronica,” he whispered as he kissed her head, but she was already sound asleep, the movie continuing to buzz behind them in the background.

  
_“Well, if that’s love, somebody goofed.”_


End file.
